Counting the Falls
by Heart of Spellz
Summary: 'When it happens, it comes fast and hard and it hurts like you wouldn't believe. The air leaves my lungs and my muscles tense and lock and there I am.' Implied slash. Written for the "I'm about to die!"-competition at the HPFC forum.


**Disclaimer: Anything you recognise does not belong to me.**

_**A/N: This was written for the "I'm about to die!"-competition (created by A Sirius crush on Moony) over at the HPFC forum. Also, an incredibly large thanks to eldritcher for another wonderful beta job. Thank you, my butterscotch cupcake! ^_^**_

_**Challenge Rules: (1) Must be a one-shot, (2) Must be first-person perspective**_

_**Provided Character: Sirius Black**_

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><p><em><strong>Counting the Falls<strong>_

Falling.

Why am I always falling? I try so hard to stand, to balance on my feet, but somehow it always comes back to the fall. And the majority of the time, there's never anyone there to catch me.

And really, why should there be? I've very rarely caught anyone else. So why should I expect someone to catch me? Yet I do, every time. And I'm almost always disappointed.

When it happens, it comes fast and hard and it hurts like you wouldn't believe. The air leaves my lungs and my muscles tense and lock and there I am. I'm suspended in mid-air over bottomless darkness and I'm terrified each and every time. I'm falling again and I can do nothing to stop it.

The first time I fell, I was nine years old and my dear old mum had just called me a mistake. It hardly rankles now, but then, it crushed me and I fell from the grace I had held so dearly. I sat in my room alone and cried as I stared out the window at the pregnant moon and wished for something that would make the hurt better, make it go away. If only I had known…

The second time I fell was horrifying and wonderful at the same time. It was the first time someone was waiting to catch me.

Halloween of my sixth year and the boys and I decided to have a bit of fun and get pissed. It ended in disaster, of course, just as most of our plans did, but the rewards far outweighed the suffering.

Moony woke up dangling from the side of the Astronomy Tower. As if that wasn't horrible enough, he was dressed in nothing but some unholy shade of pink pants with declarations of his love for Dumbledore scrawled all over his body in chocolate. He blamed me, obviously, as we attempted to lever him back up on solid ground, but for once, I honestly had nothing to do with it.

As he stood there, arms hugging his chest and flushed from the cold, cursing all of my future descendents, all I was able to do was grin like a bleeding maniac. I didn't even realise I was doing it until he pointed it out and called me a sodding idiot.

That's when I kissed him, and then I fell. He was waiting to catch me, though. He had been waiting my entire life.

The next time I fell, it was Halloween of 1981 and it wasn't just me. The entire world crumbled and crashed down around my feet. In one small blink of an eye, it all fell apart.

The memories haunt me. They're impossible to escape. James' sightless eyes, Lily's frozen, terrified expression, and Harry's cries; Hagrid flying away, Wormtail's accusations, and the screams as the street explodes.

One by one they flash through my mind's eye as they come and then they leave and come again. It's madness and I know it and the only thing I can do, even now, is silently chant, _"I'm innocent, I'm innocent. Innocent, innocent, innocent…"_

But that's a lie and I know that as well. I'm not innocent, not really. It's entirely my fault. I caused it; every bit of it. The only guilt I'm free from is that I was not the one to physically hand them to Voldemort. That thought never helps, though – never blocks out the nightmares – and suddenly, I'm falling again.

I never stop falling after that. Everything around me, surrounding me is constantly spinning and blurring and dancing such a sad dance that it's nauseating and heart wrenching and so tragic all at the same time. It's all so dark and depressing and disturbingly horrible, yet I'm still _living_ it, but I don't know how.

All I want to do is curl into a ball and close my eyes tight and never look again. I can't, though, because I'm still falling, but slower than ever before, and I'm watching Harry and Remus as they watch me and suddenly all I want to do is _cry_ out to them and tell them everything I was too cowardly to say in the past.

My mind is screaming at me to do it now or never at all, because this is it. That bitch Bellatrix finally did it and this is the end, no more time, it's all over. This is the final fall.

I welcome it, but I'm terrified all the same. The thought of peace is comforting, but all I want is just _one_ more minute to tell them that I'm sorry, that it isn't their fault, that I _care_.

Why is that all anyone ever asks for: _just one_? Then again, why does no one ever say what they want or need to when they have the chance? Spontaneity is one thing, but it only lasts so long before it's _too late_.

Now, as I take my last breath and catch my last glimpse, I realise that I've fallen again. I've fallen directly into the same trap as everyone else and I'll soon be just another nameless face amongst the dead.

Because the veil accepts me easily and pulls me gently into her comforting arms and I'm weightless and free. And it's too late all too soon.


End file.
